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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270244">Drive away and it's the same</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/asyndese/pseuds/asyndese'>asyndese</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Given (Anime), Given (Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Intoxication, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Self-Denial, Voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:47:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/asyndese/pseuds/asyndese</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They both knew the couch was far too small for his frame. It always gave him a stiff neck and was a poor substitute for a futon in general but Haruki had just mumbled "Goodnight." and left him there. Shit, that had been the sensible choice... right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kaji Akihiko/Nakayama Haruki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Drive away and it's the same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheChichiSlaughterHouse/gifts">TheChichiSlaughterHouse</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title taken from the song "Motorcycle Emptiness" by Manic Street Preachers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>4.56am, the display read. Even dimmed, the screen was too bright.</p><p>Akihiko let his phone fall back on his chest and laid an arm over his eyes. The impression of the letters swam behind his closed lids and only vanished after too many forcefully calm breaths.</p><p>He knew without a doubt that he was lying on Haruki's couch. Haruki's flat. The whole place smelled like him, his scent mixed with soap and tobacco and that alluring cologne still hanging in the air.</p><p>How often had he crashed here? Twenty times? Fifty? Even the pillow smelled like the older man, a little like himself, too, he supposed.</p><p>Lifting his arm, he cracked one eye open to see the grey shadows yield to the purple, early morning tint at a crawling pace. He should get up, leave, go home. There was no room for him here, though he constantly seemed to force himself into Haruki's life anyway. Worse, Haruki let him. When would the guy grow tired of housing his bumming ass? Haruki deserved better than Akihiko exploiting his kindness.</p><p>Last night had been fun, though. Akihiko couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much tears had run down his cheeks while Haruki had snorted into his beer, getting the foam everywhere on his shirt. That was a startling sight, burned into his memory as searingly as when Haruki had loosened his ponytail and let the wind play with the strands, whipping them around his face while they'd stumbled back to his flat. He'd smiled so much, laughing into the night, both of them had.</p><p>That sweet taste of happiness had carried him all the way back here, undeserved perhaps. He could have crashed in Haruki's bed without question. Haruki had offered, no, <em>insisted, </em>too lazy to get the futon out. It had taken all of Akihiko's will to not give in, to put on an easy smirk and shrug, to grab one pillow and hop onto the couch. <em>I'm fine right here</em>, he'd lied and turned onto his side so he didn't have to see Haruki's embarrassed, crestfallen face.</p><p>They both knew the couch was far too small for his frame. It always gave him a stiff neck and was a poor substitute for a futon in general but Haruki had just mumbled "Goodnight." and left him there. Shit, that had been the sensible choice... right?</p><p>Sitting up, he rolled his shoulders now, moving his head to the side gingerly. Left, right. Left again. Not as bad as usual, but his muscles were still cramping up and rotating his arm with one hand on his shoulder resulted in a cracking noise. What was he, an old man?</p><p>Grabbing his phone where it had fallen into the cracks between the cushions, he stood up and crept silently down the hallway. The door to Haruki's bedroom was not entirely closed, slightly ajar and allowing for Akihiko's eyes to steal a glimpse of the other man's naked back where he lay curled up on his bed.</p><p>His hair was in complete disarray, spread out on the pillow like threads of silk and Akihiko bit down on his lip piercing to stifle the noise that wanted to crawl up his throat at the sight. He needed to go. This wasn't for him.</p><p>But then Haruki moved, rolled further onto his side with his face buried in the pillow and moaned. It wasn't loud, more of a breathy sigh, but lustful all the same and Akihiko felt rooted to the spot. Was he awake? Asleep? He knew Haruki's hallway had a few creaky floorboards. If he moved, he'd surely alarm him to his presence, to the fact he was spying on his friend while he slept. How low could one guy sink? Maybe it was better to just get it over with, rip it off like a bandaid and pretend he'd been passing by to use the toilet.</p><p>But he couldn't move, his body was completely frozen to the spot, as if waiting for something, anything, with baited breath. He didn't know. Absolution? Maybe. Or maybe he was merely hoping for Haruki to fall back asleep. Except... except he didn't. Instead he was coming to as the seconds ticked by, Akihiko could tell from the way the bed rustled, the way his breathing changed.</p><p>It was still dark enough that Akihiko wouldn't be noticed in the hallway. Just another shadow among shadows. His hand was growing cold where he'd touched the handle to close the door but didn't, too scared of getting caught.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>," Haruki grunted quietly, frustration coloring his voice a warm, husky thing. He'd stilled in his movements for an agonising long time and Akihiko wasn't sure if he'd gone back to sleep, he was completely motionless.<br/><br/>"Fuck," Haruki said again, eventually, more resigned than before and then he rolled onto his back, kicking down the covers to his thighs. He was still wearing his boxers, but not much more and Akihiko wasn't so conceited to pretend he didn't drink in the sight of those long limbs, the compact build of a young man in his prime. The dim light of the early morning trying to trickle through the drawn curtains only managed to highlight the most striking features, the smoothness of his skin, the way darker shadows pooled between his abs and gave subtle form to the width of his shoulders. They were broad, Akihiko realised, maybe not as much as his own, but more than he'd expected. A perfect counterpoin to his slim hips that Haruki lifted up to push down his boxers. The shape of his tight ass was nice too.</p><p>It should have given Akihiko enough of a warning but a thrill of surprise still ran up his spine when he saw the outline of Haruki's erection bob lazily against his stomach before it was taken into one nimble hand. The pace Haruki set was indulgent but by no means without purpose, a sure rhythm that set Akihiko's cheeks aflame as he watched helplessly from the door. His keen eye followed each pass, each twist of Haruki's wrist, cataloguing the way his hips bucked up into his fist on a particularly good stroke.</p><p>Another breathy groan fell from Haruki's open mouth, this one more deliberate, a slow rumble of controlled want and Akihiko was sure that his heartbeat could be heard all the way down the hallway, a rhythmic <em>thud thud thud</em> booming in his ears. Like a flood slamming against the door of his conscience. His hand was starting to slip on the door handle, heating up the metal with his sweat and he tried to let go, slowly, ever so slowly, to wipe it on his jeans.</p><p><em>Shit</em>. He'd really played himself there, manoeuvred himself into a corner from which there was no escape but forward. Leaving now would be the worst idea. Because then Haruki would know what Akihiko truly was and he wasn't ready for that, not yet. Maybe never. Just a bit longer, he pleaded with a deity he did not believe in. Just for a while, enough to gather his courage to retreat back to the shadows where he belonged, enough to steal a few more glimpses of that tantalizing display.</p><p>To watch Haruki, gentle, kind, Haruki engage in the lowly act of spitting into his own hand to ease the glide was obscene and hot and all kinds of wrong, the sound of the wet squelch drowned out by the ragged groan that followed and Akihiko's toes curled in his socks, against the cool floorboards.</p><p><em>Does it feel good?</em> he wondered with startling hunger<em>. Wouldn't it be better if it was someone else, another's palm to run over your thighs, your stomach, to jerk you off just right, the way you crave? </em></p><p>"Ah god, just--" Haruki answered him unwittingly and tipped his head back into the pillow, baring the whole vulnerability of his throat. A perfect canvas to be marked by Akihiko's teeth and he clenched down on his molars enough for his jaw to ache. He needed to stifle the desire before it could fully bloom in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>It didn't matter, though. He already felt the deep throb of it, all the hot blood rushing down where it filled his own hand when he pressed it against his groin to adjust himself. He bit his lip just as Haruki did, felt rather than heard how good his own hand pleasured him the way Akihiko couldn't. Wouldn't.</p><p>Akihiko might have been distracted by... by other things, but he wasn't blind. He knew how Haruki looked at him sometimes, how his eyes dropped to Akihiko's lips when they shared a cigarette. The way his voice turned impossibly low when he was drunk and feeling brave, leaning into Akihiko's warmth.</p><p>He shouldn't be here, shouldn't watch the way Haruki's legs shifted on the bedding, how his hips screwed up so perfectly like they were made for fucking, for Akihiko's hands to grab his ass and shove him down into his own lap. He'd let him, wouldn't he? Moan the way he did now as he grabbed his own loose hair in a fist, shuddering as he came in thick spurts over own his stomach. Akihiko could to that, could do it <em>better</em>, drive him to the brink of ecstasy with the right thrust, the right words, the right kiss. Lick him clean after and fuck him through the tremors wrecking his body as he came down from his high.</p><p>He had to reach for the doorframe to steady himself, to keep himself from... from a bad decision. For all he knew, Haruki would kick him out of his flat, this time forever if he knew just how deep that rabbit hole went, that depravity. Maybe he already did. Akihiko only belatedly noticed that Haruki had turned his face towards the door, staring at the revealed stripe of darkness lying behind, into the hallway, into Akihiko's eyes. His expression was unreadable in the twilight, chest rising and falling fast, the hair fluttering with his ragged breath where it stuck to the corner of his mouth and Akihiko matched his rhythm unconsciously, taking in big gulps through his open, dry mouth as silently as he could.</p><p>The floorboard did not creak as he inched backwards on shaking legs. And he was sure he made no sound, none at all, as he gathered his things at the door and slipped into his shoes. His own cock was aching, deep pulses that <em>hurt</em> and he would take care of it. Later, but he needed to get out of here or temptation and lust would swallow him whole.</p><p>The door to Haruki's room seemed to shiver open a fraction, but Akihiko wasn't sure, he couldn't see clearly because he'd already closed the front door faster than he'd intended. The noise of the lock falling into place only piled onto his shame.</p><p>He was too drunk for this, really that must be it, but the fresh morning air and the first cigarette of the day managed to clear the haze just fine.</p><p>His phone read 5.33am and a few messages from Uenoyama. He’d left the one from Ugetsu on unread all night, he'd already known what it said but the notification bothered him anyway. Fuck it. After deleting it, he pocketed the phone again and tightened the strap of his helmet under his chin once he had reached his motorcycle. Half an hour, enough for his whole life to be turned upside down.</p><p>Maybe he deserved it.</p>
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